


We Must Wake Up Again

by unnieunnie, XiuChen4Ever



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-10-20 05:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20670002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnieunnie/pseuds/unnieunnie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: Minseok remembered nothing before he became a Valkyrie, escorting souls to their heavens. He had never been tempted to join one until he met the soul whose song spoke to his own.Chen's world had been filled with music, until it was filled with war. But when it seemed like too late, there was music again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt T115: thank you for such a great prompt!
> 
> \-----

Each soul had a different call, and all of them were beautiful.

In his centuries as a Valkyrie, it had been Minseok’s honor to escort all manner of souls to their heavens, from the trumpet fanfare of fallen warriors called to Valhalla to the pure choral strains of saints called to sit at the feet of their god. The last, most important journey they would take, with him as their guide.

With no memory of his own human life, Minseok had no idea why he was an escort of souls instead of having moved to a heaven. His first memory was of Changmin’s face, smiling at him, hands on his shoulders, that low voice saying,

“Welcome, my brother.”

Changmin would never tell him the circumstances of his death. Minseok chose to believe that to become a Valkyrie was a reward. But sometimes, standing with a soul that quivered with joy on the threshold of its eternal heaven, he wondered whether it was a punishment.

Minseok heard a low ringing in the distance. He raised his head to listen for the call.

The soul’s call sent him off his feet, wings flaring wide as the inside of his mind was overwhelmed: the crack and roll of thunder, the moan of whalesong, the low oscillation of a star singing to itself. The dawn chorus of birds, the rush of spring flood, a newborn’s first, indignant cry. Minseok choked with it, filled with sound, all the sounds of creation bursting in his head at once.

The sound pulled him – there would be no search for this soul. Minseok flew faster than he ever had before, an arrow of golden light drawn by the soul’s inexorable call.

He landed in a battlefield, as he had done so many times before. The ground cracked under his spear with the force of his landing over a small prone form. The battle continued around him as if through a haze, its noise and chaos muted by the magic of which Minseok was made.

Up close, the soul’s call quieted; Minseok shook his head to clear it and stared down at the face of the man. He didn’t wear the uniform of a leader, and though he lay at the front line, he wasn’t surrounded by others, as if he had been someone with guards and aides.

Just one man, with a soul as bright as dawn.

And oh, under the dirt and blood, so beautiful. Minseok was knocked still, staring down at that angular face, brows fierce even in death. He touched one sculpted cheek, still warm, and felt the soul trembling under his hand.

He trailed his fingers down skin, leather, and cloth to lie over the man’s heart. He sang his own song, the music that inhabited him, which told a soul how to let go of its fleshly home and rise toward him. The soul pooled briefly in his hand. The silver light of it pulsed. Minseok sang, and the soul unfolded into its true shape.

Souls didn’t always match the form of their human bodies. This one did, if still blurry with newness – a whipcord-thin man with snapping black eyes and a mouth that curved naturally toward a smile. The soul cocked his head, brows drawing together in what would be a question.

Minseok pulled him close and flew.

The soul trembled against him; Minseok felt the soul solidify against his chest, felt one hand curl over the edge of his breastplate.

Felt something settle inside, and knew himself forever changed. This soul he would never forget.

Perhaps he had become a Valkyrie because there was no particular heaven his soul wanted. Were he to be asked now, in this moment with the brightest soul he had ever known shivering in his arms, Minseok would say that his heaven would be wherever this soul rested.

“Please,” the soul said.

Minseok made a small place of rest and landed. This was usual: often souls wanted a moment to adjust to the fact of their death. He held the soul until it seemed he would not fall and stepped back.

How cold it felt, to step away.

“What is this? Who are you?” the soul asked, like so many souls before.

“I am Minseok. I’m here to escort you to the reward you earned in life.”

Minseok stood under the soul’s scrutiny, feeling heat in his cheeks for the first time in his memory. Hoping, for the first time in memory, that his headpiece was on straight.

“You’re an angel.”

The soul’s voice was as resonant as a bell. Minseok shook his head.

“I’m not. I’m just an escort.”

“Just?” the soul said.

He stepped forward, looking into Minseok’s face with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. Minseok fought the urge to retreat from that gaze, which seemed to look through him and leave him bare.

“Why would a mere escort be so gorgeous?” the soul murmured.

Minseok’s giddiness required a smile, a shaky breath. The soul looked surprised, then broke out into a smile so wide and lovely that Minseok couldn’t help but grasp his arm. Minseok felt his own internal music rise up inside.

“Will you be there? Wherever you’re taking me?” the soul asked.

The soul leaned in toward him.

“I wish,” Minseok said. “Oh, I wish –“

The soul’s smile faltered.

“No, wait, you can’t take me,” he said.

Minseok kept his hold on the soul’s arm. He knew the coming tumult well; of course this brave soul would not wish to let go.

“I can’t go,” the soul said, and wrenched his arm free.

“No. No, they need me, the war! You have to send me back, Kai! Chanyeol!”

The soul tried to run, but in this place of rest, there was no actual ground to run on. The edge of it was not precisely a wall, but it was a barrier that could not be crossed.

There was nowhere for the soul to go.

“You cannot return,” Minseok said.

The soul beat his fists against the barrier, tried to crane his head to see a world that was utterly lost to him.

“No!” he cried. “No, you have to send me back, Suho was down, he was – Suho!”

Minseok let the soul struggle briefly, ached for the pain of his loyalty and love.

“You cannot return,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, it’s impossible.”

He clasped the soul’s arm to try to comfort and calm him. The soul struggled, whirled to pull at Minseok’s breastplate, grabbed the hand holding his spear.

“No, you don’t understand! Please, I have to protect them!”

“You cannot,” Minseok said as gently as he could.

“No,” the soul moaned. “No, no, please, you have to send me back, I can’t leave them, please!”

Minseok tried to hold him. The soul’s distress made an ache behind his ribs. Minseok wanted to sing comfort to him.

Wanted, for the first time, to be able to grant this request.

“Please,” the soul whispered.

Minseok touched his face.

“You are lost to them now,” he said. “I’m sorry, I wish it were otherwise, but there is no pathway back.”

“I won’t go,” the soul growled, tugging at Minseok’s breastplate again, beating his fist against it once. “I don’t care what it’s like, I won’t go to some paradise without my friends. I’ll – I’ll stay as a ghost, but you can’t make me go on, I won’t do it!”

“You must,” Minseok said. “You have earned your rest.”

“I don’t want it!” the soul shouted. “I don’t want heaven without them, I will not go, I – “

The soul arched. Minseok held onto him as his body went rigid. His mouth opened wide, then too wide, and the sound of his call rang out again, a sound that could never emerge from a human throat but that filled the air around them. The sound shook Minseok, as if he were a bell being rung, and his own mouth opened for his song to pour out and twine with the soul’s in a chorus so aching that Minseok wished he were able to weep.

The soul shuddered. The vibrating air took on a glow, the gold of Minseok’s wings and spear. His spear grew warm in his hand. The soul went stiff, and wings burst from his back. Minseok dropped his spear and held onto the soul with both hands while he was enveloped by golden light. He kept singing, in case it was necessary.

Singing this new Valkyrie into being.

At the end of it, they both dropped to their knees, clasping one another’s forearms and panting, though they had no need for breath.

Was this how it had been for himself as well? Had he never gone to his reward because he had insisted to stay? Was it devotion that had made him, as it had his new brother-in-arms?

Minseok looked at the new Valkyrie, so like his human form, but sharper-edged, with black hair that curled down over his face. He still glowed with the gold light of his creation.

“I remember you,” the new Valkyrie said. “I don’t know anything. But I know you’re Minseok.”

His voice resonated with the sound of his birth-song.

“I am,” Minseok said.

He smiled, and the new Valkyrie smiled back at him. Minseok felt the hands on his arms tighten. He was so grateful never to have gone to his reward. Such an eternity, now, with this soul and his voice that rang with creation.

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome, Jongdae.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chen's soul had always been made of song. 

That's what his grandmother had said when he was born, wailing his way into the world with an opera singer's lungs.

That's what his teachers had said when he'd found himself singing in class while he worked, pausing occasionally to stick the tip of his tongue between upturned lips.

That's what his friends had said when he only ever wanted to go out to karaoke bars and passed on any other non-birthday get together.

And that's what his company had said, when he'd broken all the sales records for a solo album.

That was all before the war, of course.

Once the Red Force takeover had begun, it had felt like all the music had been sucked out of life entirely. The skies had turned gray and smoky over a monochrome city. And the only sounds in the air had been tannoy-delivered propaganda, explosions, and screaming.

Chen had refused to give up his song, using his voice to pour strength and inspiration into those he loved. And he'd refused the shouted order for silence, belting out the insolubility of the human spirit, shoulder to shoulder with the men with whom he'd once trained to sing and dance. Now they were in a tight formation for a different reason, but the strength and stamina they'd developed still stood them well.

This strength let Chen keep singing even when the Red Force riot control closed in with teargas and batons. He'd chanted his defiance even after his singing was choked by irritants and injury. And even as he lay broken on the pavement, his lips moved to give shape to his truth.

_We are here. We suffer. We matter. Our lives have purpose, meaning, value._

Lives so easily snuffed out.

Light. Warmth. Song.

The light brought focus, the warmth gave peace, but it was the song that drew him free.

It was the song that shone with beauty.

Wide, expressive eyes. The steadfast set of a tapered jaw. Lips that sang of rest, reprieve, reward.

A face glowing with gentle glory.

A heart that called him home.

He clung to a gold-plated chest, trembling in fear and awe.

_Please,_ he yearned, though he knew not for which he asked.

His bearer knew, and paused. Steadied him, and stepped away.

"What is this?" he asked, feeling himself form sound into speech. "Who are you?" 

He felt himself again, familiar yet foreign. But he was somehow nowhere, with this ephemeral being. 

"I am Minseok." The name was a symphony. "I’m here to escort you to the reward you earned in life.”

_In life. _ A distinction. From… whatever he was now.

Realization crescendoed. "You're an angel."

He dismissed the denial. Beauty—_this_ beauty—was not a thing wasted. And it wasn't wasted here, in this gasp, in the following smile.

And suddenly where he was no longer mattered. Like the bifrost bridged worlds, two smiles arced across the distance between two souls. 

_Here, _sang the ethereal duet. _Home._

_Home!_ rang the countermelody. _Fight!_

He babbled, thrashed, fretted like a butterfly in a jar. He couldn't abandon those that fought, couldn't let his fellow warriors fall, heartsongs forever silenced. He needed to be there, to honor their efforts, to sing love and triumph into ears ringing with strife.

_You did well, brave and worthy friends. You will not be left forgotten to fall alone into the dark._

For the second time beneath Minseok's song, all that he was coalesced into one single sustained note: _Please!_

As before, Minseok held him close as he sang, not a dirge for the dying but an anthem of life, the march of the triumphant hero, a lullaby for a beloved child, a reveille for the unconquerable spirit, the sweetest song to call the weary home.

His immutable melody was wrapped in the steady embrace of Minseok's harmony and when once again awareness emerged they were clinging to each other, tied together like notes in a score, song flowing from one to the other in endless refrain.

_I remember you, _one soul greeted another.

_Welcome,_ the other answered.

The cadence of a kiss, a symphony of sighs, a crescendo, a climax, an allegro duet.

_Welcome, Jongdae. Welcome home._


End file.
